There's a Dragon in the Library
by just call me Cappy
Summary: It all began one day, when Neville Longbottom lost his quill ...


THERE'S A DRAGON IN THE LIBRARY   
by Caprgrrl ... with a little help from Bruce Coville   
  
[Author's note: This fanfic is based on Bruce Coville's story, 'Duffy's Jacket', which can be found in the compilation of short stories, 'Oddly Enough'. I loved it. Here is the Harry Potter versh written by me! Short and most probably sweet. Enjoy!!]   
  
* * * *   
  
Neville Longbottom of Gryffindor has lost his quill again.   
  
He searches high and low: in his schoolbag, in his box, under his bed, in his aquarium. He can't find it. He rumples through his already-neat bedsheets, he searches through his textbooks. He can't find it.   
  
"Guys, help me find my quill," he says sadly, turning over cushions and curtains. Hermione sighs, Ron grumbles, and Harry lets Neville borrow his quill after thirty minutes of searching when they find out they're late for class.   
  
"I'm sorry, it's my fault," Neville says, trailing behind his three heroes. "I wish there was some way to stop me from forgetting and losing things."   
  
WELL. He should have been careful for what he wishes for ... because most wishes have a rather nasty habit of coming true.   
  
* * *   
  
That night, in the hallway, just after dinner:   
  
"I still haven't found my quill," Neville says.   
  
"Will you forget the quill already!?" Ron grumbles.   
  
"You can keep mine," Harry offers, but Neville shakes his head sadly and drags his feet in the hallway. They look on forlornly. It was a sad, sad picture. Neville turns a corner with the speed of a moping turtle.   
  
And comes running back like a rabbit with his tail on fire.   
  
"There's something back there," he gasps, eyes nearly popping out. His clutches the hem of his robe nervously and bites his bottom lip, shuddering slightly.   
  
"Neville," Hermione says firmly, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms. "April Fool's was two months ago."   
  
"I'm not kidding! It was making weird grumbly noises and complains a lot."   
  
"It could be Snape, then," Ron jokes, but this only made Neville shudder even more. "Guys," Neville says, playing with his thumbs nervously, "Can you look first?"   
  
Hermione sighs and marches around the corner, muttering to herself.   
  
And comes running back like a rabbit with its tail on fire.   
  
"There's something back there!" she whispers.   
  
The three of them watch the corner closely, completely frozen. The weird, grumbly noises gets louder, coupled by a loud, throbbing footstep. And finally, as soon as the four Gryffindors saw a thin, wavering shadow cast against the wall, they bolted.   
  
"What d'you think it was?" Ron gasps. "An evil spirit? A Lethifold?"   
  
"It could be a troll!" says Hermione.   
  
"Or a Dementor," Harry replies, eyes wide.   
  
"Or Snape," Neville whispers, and the three others stare at him with Strange Looks on their faces.   
  
"Whatever it is, its coming this way!" Hermione cries. They enter the Library (which is, by now, dimly-lit and terribly spooky), closing the door behind them. The footsteps muffle and fade away.   
  
They stare at the rows and rows of books, creaking shelves, and shifting dust. Neville shivers. It was awfully cold, and a lifting breeze blows out a few lit candles. He isn't afraid of ghosts - there were five in Hogwarts - but that omnious, growling shadow that followed them.   
He whimpers.   
  
The throbbing, shuffling footsteps draw closer. The creature is so close, they can hear it sniffing and snuffling at the door, feel the heat of its breath and hear its growling through the lock. A soft flash of silver causes Hermione to stiffen.   
  
"It's a dragon!" she squeaks, clutching the hem of her robe. "I can see the outline of its head. How did it get in Hogwarts? It's gonna barbecue us!"   
  
"Don't panic," Harry says. "Think of something. Where to hide!"   
  
"Behind the last shelf," Hermione whispers firmly. She navigates through the darkened library like she knew it like the back of her hand, which, by the way, she does. "Neville, over here. Ron: Get behind Harry. Don't. Move."   
  
The suffling creature stops snuffling. They thought it as about to leave when they heard te soft creak of the library door opening ... then they knew they were possibly doomed.   
  
The dragon's head swayed from side to side, its fire-lined nostrils inflating as if it were sniffing for something. It lifts its head slightly, testing the air, tasting for a trace of a human scent. A light breeze ruffles Harry's hair. The dragon turns in their direction ... and they knew they were absolutely doomed.   
  
They cringe in the dragon's shadow. Four pairs of frightened eyes stare up into a pair of firey, glittering-blazing ones, coupled by slivery fangs glinting in the candlelight. It opens its powerful jaw, displaying its full set of gleaming canine teeth. It raises its awesome claw - razor-sharp piercing golden talons - into the air ...   
... and Neville's notices something the dragon was clutching.   
  
Its voice was made of ice and steel, and rings of smoke and fire. It resonates through the dim library, throwing up clouds of dust, rattling the books in their shelves.   
  
"You forgot your quill, stupid," the dragon growls.   
  
Then it leaves.   
  
And Neville, perhaps, will never forget where he leaves his possesions after this ... cos he'll never know who might bring it back.   
  
-THE END-   
  
* * * * 


End file.
